


Where It Wasn't Supposed to Be

by Daryl_Alenko



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017), teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Romance, Crossover Pairings, Drama & Romance, M/M, Multi, Sassy Jughead Jones, Sassy Stiles Stilinski, Slow To Update, Stiles Stilinski Is So Done
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-05-06 10:03:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14639547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daryl_Alenko/pseuds/Daryl_Alenko
Summary: Crossover between Teen Wolf and Riverdale!Takes place after Season 2 of Teen Wolf, and before Season 1 of Riverdale.Scott getting bit, Derek becoming the Alpha, and surviving the Kanima ... Stiles decides that he needs a break from the drama of Beacon Hills. After having a long talk with his Dad, it's decided that he will spend the summer with his cousin Kevin in Riverdale. The last thing he expected was to fall headlong into an unconventional romance.





	Where It Wasn't Supposed to Be

**Author's Note:**

> This will be an ongoing story. However, it may take me a while to finish it, so I hope everyone will be patient with me! And, as always, I hope everyone enjoys!!
> 
>  
> 
> Title taken from -
> 
> Amber Run, I Found
> 
> There will be some bad language on occasion through this fic. And there will be some sexual situations, but nothing too explicit.

* * *

Life is -not- supposed to be this complicated, okay!! He's supposed to be concerned with dating, avoiding acne, keeping good grades, and watching his Dad's cholesterol levels! -Not- werewolves, alpha and beta BS, or surviving the rampage of a giant lizard creature killing people! And who knew that Kanima-Jackson could be even more of a douchenozzle than the OG Jackson!?

The point is .. that he is -really- starting to miss the nice, quiet, normal life of a teenager. Though he knows that, in the end, he really doesn't have anyone to blame but himself. It was his suggestion to look for a dead body that got Scott bit and even though Scott was the one that ultimately decided to go to Derek Hale for help .. Stiles didn't have to go along with it. He could've noped out at any moment. But instead, he chose to stick by Scott's side and run with wolves. 

He even worked hard to try and save Jackson, despite the fact that the asshole has always, well, been an asshole to him.

So. All thoughts of a 'normal' life have long since gone out the window. His only plan now is to try and have a quiet, decent summer. Originally, he had thought to spend the Summer with Scott, a return to their bro-hood or something. However, with him and Allison broken up, he's not really prepared to spend the next few months listening to the werewolf lament his ended relationship. For once, the -only one- he wants to worry about is himself. However, he knows the likelihood of that actually happening is close to zero. Derek has already called three times to demand he look stuff up, Scott has texted nineteen messages that all boil down to 'oh woe is me and my broken heart,' and his Dad has lectured him twice on finding a productive way to spend his Summer and he's only been out of school for two days.

In short, he's a ticking time-bomb ready to explode and it's anyone's guess which straw will be the last.

* * *

Day three of summer break and Stiles is losing his damn mind! Every where he turns, it seems as if something is pressing in on him. Reminding him that his life has been uprooted and changed in such a way that he may never see normal again. He glances at his cellphone when it begins to blare Howl by Florence + the Machine. He immediately yanks the device up, wincing momentarily as he stares at the display. It simply reads Sourwolf, though he doesn't actually -need- to look at the display to know who exactly is calling him. Or to know that he -really- doesn't want to answer it.

"Do your own damn research." He mutters to his empty bedroom before he shoves his phone into the middle drawer of his desk and leans back in his computer chair. He is -not- a walking library or breathing google search. It is -not- his job to spend all summer translating parts of the Bestiary. Nor is it his responsibility to make sure that Isaac and Peter are behaving, that Scott is focusing on the proper things, meaning everything BUT Allison. It's not even his job to hound his dad at this point. "I'm not part of the damn Pack." He growls the words, bitter and yet resigned. He's not part of the Pack, because he's human and pointless. In fact, at this point, he feels more like their Rent-a-Geek than anything actually connected or included. 

Let Derek find someone else to ask for help. Surely Isaac can read and write, so why not get his own damn Beta to do the job?? He glares at his desk drawer for a moment before sighing and looking at his laptop. His desktop background is on a slow loop of 'throwback' pics. A reminder of his life back when it was nice and normal. Before brain conditions, ADHD and werewolves fucked it all up for him. He watches the photos go by, trying not to let the nostalgia get the better of him. Especially when a few of his mom pass.

He's just about ready to turn away when he reaches out quickly and halts the progression. 

A single photo is settled on the desktop. The picture shows a teen standing against a grey wall, wearing a mesmerizing, boyish smile. He's roughly the same height as Stiles, with the same colored hair. Though Stiles' still has his buzz cut, while the other teen has feathery, styled hair. And where Stiles' eyes are so brown they almost look like bronze at times, the other teen's eyes are a flawless hazel.

"Stiles." Derek's vocal growl of his name causes the teen to jump in surprise and whirl around in his seat. Causes him to -glare- at the Alpha openly.

"Getting really tired of the sneaking up routine, sourwolf. What do you -want-!?" He snaps the words out, shoulders squared, jaw set. In short, he's a little pissed to have his privacy once again invaded by the older man. Who is glaring right back at him. Or, at least, that's his assumption until he realizes that Derek is glaring -over- his shoulder. He glances back and sees the picture on his desktop. He quickly closes the laptop and returns to glaring at the werewolf.

"You weren't answering your phone and I need you to look something up. Who the hell is that??" There is a new, undefined sharp edge to Derek's words and they cause something heavy and leaden to settle in the pit of the humans stomach. He doesn't have the patience or brainpower for this right now. Deciphering Derek is a pastime he'd much rather never have to engage in again.

"He is none of your damn business, Hale. As for my phone .. one would think you'd take the damn hint and -stop- calling! I don't have time to look anything up right now. Why don't you go park Isaac's ass in front of google and get him to do it?" He turns back around, propping his elbows on his desk in front of his laptop. Part of him hopes that Derek will sneak out just as quietly as he came in, but he really does know better. He essentially just told the Alpha no and there's no way that he's going to come out of that without some kind of ire from the werewolf. 

"Isaac falls for every piece of false information out there, Stiles. Somehow, you are freakishly good at finding correct information." Wow, that almost sounds like a compliment! And, literally on -any- other day, he would be preening and lapping that compliment up like a man dying of thirst. But tonight? Tonight, he just wants Derek to -leave-! "... and he's watching some new comedy movie with Scott." Ouch. Okay? Just .. just -ouch-. Scott is out with Isaac at a movie and he wasn't even -invited-!? He chuffs angrily, nostrils flaring before he manages to slowly turn around and face the Alpha. Who, as per usual, is perfectly put together and distant and god he hates the bastard in this moment. Because of course he would deliver soul crushing news like that as if it shouldn't have the least little impact on Stiles. Why would the human care if he were being ditched by his friend, right?

"Of course he is. Look. I'm going to say this as slow and simple as possible, sourwolf. I don't care. I am not looking anything up right now. I'm allowed time off from all of this. Just. Leave." Derek's eyes narrow, his mouth turning down at the edges. Stiles is expecting a full on Alpha hissy fit, a lecture, maybe even to find his back connecting with the nearest wall for daring to stand up to the werewolf. Instead, Derek surprises him. (He actually does that a lot.) 

"You're right. You are allowed time off. Get some sleep, Stiles." Derek turns then and leaps easily out of the window, leaving a gape-mouthed human behind. The -last- thing he had expected from the Alpha was any kind of capitulation. He will take this win and cherish it, because he doubts that there will be many in the future. With a sigh, he closes his bedroom window and strips down to his boxers. He climbs into his bed and curls up in the middle of it. With a silent prayer that he can finally sleep without nightmares, he drifts off.

* * *

He should have known better. He really, -really- should've known better. Around one in the morning, the nightmares start.

**_"Stiillleesss..." Peter's sing-song voice is cold, calculating. Terrifying. It sends electric shivers up and down the spine of the human. If he is caught .. if Peter -catches- him, then it's all over. This time, he will not be so kind as to -ask- if Stiles wants the bite. No, he will take the teen by force. Remove everything that makes him human until a brilliant foot-soldier is all that remains. He cannot allow the bastard to win! "STILES!!" The Alpha roar rattles his bones, shakes him to the core and compels something in him, despite the fact that he is still human._ **

**_He peers around the uprooted tree he's hiding behind, swallowing down a whimper of fear when Peter's roar echoes through the Preserve. The human is stuck in a fight or flight mode that he cannot escape. An endless feedback loop that continues to make him more and more scared, more and more unsure of himself. Why did -no one- listen to him when he said they needed to kill Peter 2.0!? The power hungry asshole killed Scott and Isaac! Stiles had watched with abject horror as he ripped Scott's throat out and threw the open-eyed corpse at his feet. Watched as he gutted Isaac and then ripped his curly haired head from his shoulders. The head had been lobbed at the tree trunk behind Stiles and had finally prompted him to RUN!!_ **

**_Now, he's been running and dodging through the Preserve, leading Creeper on a merry chase in hopes of staving off the inevitable long enough for Derek to arrive and SAVE HIM! However, his energy is depleted, he has a stitch in his side, and he's pretty damn sure that if he is forced to try and run again, he's going to pass out. In short, he's Peters ... there's no hope left._ **

**_"All this time, running me in circles. Marking and remarking trees to try and throw me off. You always were the oddest, weirdest human I ever met, Stiles. You are more attuned to the wolves than most of those pathetic Pups my poor Nephew tried to make a Pack from. God, why he never had the balls to bite you is beyond me! Sure, you would've hated him at first, much the same way Scott hated me, but you're so much smarter than that potato on legs. You would've -understood-! You would've been the kind of second-in-command that any Pack would kill to have! But, that's our Derek .. always too soft hearted for his own good. Especially when it comes to his precious Stiles!" The human clamps a hand over his mouth, forcing a whimper right back down his throat. If he makes noise, if he so much as -breathes- too loud, Peter will be on him in a second. And he really -wasn't- lying when he told the Alphadouche that he didn't want to be like him. He doesn't want to be a werewolf. He's perfectly happy being -human-._ **

**_He pushes himself carefully to his feet, struggling on legs reduced to wobbly jelly as he tries to keep himself upright. He has to run. There's no hope for it. This time, Derek has let him down, left him to die. That thought guts him. Reaches into the recesses of his heart and crushes all hope._ **

**_"Stop running, Stiles! Just give yourself to me .. and no one else has to die!" Those words chill him to the bone and stop him before he can take off running again. What's the point? Alpha Asshole is right. If he runs, more die. "After all, you wouldn't want me to -gut- your Alpha, would you?" He cannot breathe. That single question robs him of breath, coherence and every other sense that might have a hope of finding a way out of this mess. He's lying, right? Re-Pete -has- to be lying, because there's no way in hell he managed to capture Derek ... right!?_ **

**_"Don't listen to him, Stiles!" Annddd .. of course he captured Derek! Because of course! Even he would be hard pressed not to consider him a fool half the time. His whole rush in claws blazing without a strategy thing really does piss Stiles off no end._ **

**_"I'm coming out!" The words are shouted before he's even aware he has spoken. And yet, he finds that he would not take them back. That he -will not run- despite how badly he wants to. There's no way in hell he's leaving his Alpha to be killed by this insane prick. Though to be truthful, had Re-Pete been holding -anyone- hostage, he would be hard pressed not to give himself up._ **

**_When he vacates his hiding spot behind the fallen tree, he swallows down a whimper. Peter is standing several yards in front of him. Derek's back is pressed to Peter's chest, the Alphadouche holding him like a living shield. Stiles is a little flattered that Peter thinks him that much of a challenge/problem that he would think he needs protection._ **

**_"Ahh, there you are, Stiles. Honestly, I want to be -annoyed- at you for giving me such a hard time, but how can I? It's been so much -fun- chasing you, trying to understand the patterns to your strategies and thoughts. You are an enigma I have very much enjoyed toying with. However, the Alpha's getting a little irked, sweetness. It's time for you to stop running and kneel! Bare your throat to me, Stiles, and I may let him live." He knows Re-Pete well enough to know that there's a 50-50 chance that the bastard is lying through his teeth. That there's a chance the word MAY means he really won't, but seeing the way his claws are digging into the edges of Derek's throat, drawing a sluggish cascade of blood down his skin .. the way Derek is struggling to keep himself from choking .. he just can't sit back and not -try-._ **

**_"You win, Creeper." Stiles lifts his empty hands, palms displayed. He is without weapon. After all, what could he possibly use against an insane Alpha werewolf!? He's just a human with a few parlor tricks compared to the assbutt that is holding his friend. "But you will -never- be my Alpha." He speaks those words with more confidence than he can claim to have at the moment. His voice is strong, unwavering. Even his heartbeat is steady and strong. He is not lying. Re-Pete will NEVER be his Alpha! He carefully falls to his knees. His eyes are dark, sparking with cold defiance. He carefully stretches out his long, pale neck, pulls his head to the side so that his neck is bared to the insane asshole. And yet, not -once- does he drop his eyes or offer true deference to the older man. Because he will never fully submit to this asshole!_ **

**_"Is that so, Stiles? Are you still entertaining romantic notions of somehow saving the day? Of freeing your poor, precious Alpha and taking me down?" Re-Pete throws his head back and roars with cold, mocking laughter and Stiles feels his blood beginning to boil with rage. He -hates- being mocked and made fun of. It's something he has endured far too much of through the years and it never gets easier to handle. "Well, let me put you out of your misery, my dear boy." Stiles feels every muscle in his body tensing, wanting to scream, rage, or even -beg- because he knows what's coming next. Doesn't take a genius to understand what the Alphadouche is about to do._ **

**_He watches, useless, hopeless, as the Creeper reaches up .. and rips Derek's throat out in a single yank of clawed fingers. The blood spray is huge. It splashes across the grass and begins to soak into the dead leaves on the forest floor. With a pained, choking gurgle, Derek bleeds out in moments. Peter snickers, throws the dead werewolf's body to the forest floor and Stiles feels his entire world shatter, break apart into a thousand pieces as he watches the bloodied, wide-eyed corpse land._ **

**_"Oh god ..." He whispers the words softly, vaguely aware of how many times he has used them when Derek tried to intimidate him. Or, well, whenever Derek did -anything- that annoyed him, really. He had as many inflections for those two words as Derek has for Stiles' name. Stiles finds himself choking back a sob, eyes glued to the twisted features of his dead friend, his leader, his Alpha._ **

**_"Stiles .." Re-Pete's sickening voice is right in his ear. His hot, fetid breath slithering down Stiles' throat as his bloodied hand comes to grip the teen by the nape of his neck. "Do not mourn for my Nephew, sweetness. He will be happier in death than he ever could've been in life. He is reunited with his family, and no longer carries the shameful burden of their death." The teen is trembling, there is nothing he can do to stop it. And yet, he does not close his eyes. Does not shrink into himself or cower in any way._ **

**_"Fuck you, Creeper. You will -never- be an Alpha! You're not even a Beta! You're a bitch boi with delusions of grandeur. You're fifth runner up and the only way to get what you want is to kill everyone that's actually -worthy-! I hope you choke on it!" He snarls the final words moments before he feels impossibly sharp teeth biting into his shoulder. Somehow, though he hasn't the first -clue- how, he manages not to scream as pain spreads through his body from the bite._ **

* * *

Stiles screams loudly, his tired body thrashing against the restraining hold of his sheets and blankets as he tries to fight off a fragment of a nightmare. He's not aware he's screaming until his door bursts open and his Dad comes rushing in. Within moments, strong arms are wrapped around him and he feels himself being cradled back, against his Father's chest. He knows that he should feel safe and protected, but how the hell is he supposed to feel -anything- positive when his nightmares feel as if they are on the cusp of coming true!? His Dad is amazing .. has -always- been his hero and the one thing that made him feel completely safe from the rest of the world. 

Until he realized that the supernatural is -totally- real and none of them stand a chance against it. Now he spends more time worrying about his Dad's well being than trusting in his Dad to keep him safe. So even now, though he is sinking into his Dad's embrace, he has little trust that it will make anything better. In fact, he doesn't think -anything- can make the hellhole his life has become, better.

"Stiles! Son, it's just a -dream-! Come on, kiddo, try and breathe for me. That's it .. come on .." He vaguely remembers this tone. It's the one his Dad adopted when Stiles started having panic attacks. Right after his Mom died. He wants to be able to tell him that this -isn't- a panic attack, but he can't really do that, can he? Because explaining that this is a -natural and logical- reaction to the possible death lurking around every corner of his life, would require that he tell his Dad -everything- that's been going on and there's just no way in hell that he's going to do that! The longer he keeps his Dad out of the supernatural, the longer he keeps him safe.

"D-Dad .." He whispers the word from a throat nearly closed with anxiety. He feels as if he hasn't had water for a week and is on the verge of dying from a dusty throat. "I .. I'll be okay." Though he's going for reassuring, he knows that he's missed it by a mile. At least. He doesn't have any more platitudes or reassurances left to give, because he's already lying enough without striving to make himself sound better off than he currently is. No, he's not okay, but he has confidence that he will be. Not as great as he can be, but at least okay.

"You're really starting to worry me, Stiles. What's going on?" There it is. His Dad has -finally- given him an opening to talk about all the crap he's been going through this past year and he still can't bring himself to do it. Can't make himself spill the beans about Scott and everything that's happened since the Bite. 

"Just bad dreams, Dad. This year .. it hasn't been a good one." It's the closest he's come to admitting that things are as screwed up as they actually are without saying much of anything. He feels a hand rubbing gently at his buzz cut, calming him almost instantly as he regulates his breathing. As he leans back, into the strong support of his Dad.

"Yeah, no kidding, Stiles. It's been .. yeah." Even the Sheriff can't bring himself to actually speak of everything that has happened. The massacre at the Station shook him up more than he's willing to admit to his son. The fact that Stiles is somehow so -calm- about it all ... well, that's a bit more than he can handle. Because it's beyond odd and surreal that his teenage son is handling all of the unexplained deaths in their quiet little town a hell of a lot better than he is. 

".. I'm sorry, Dad." Stiles barely manages to force the words out past the dry lump in his throat and battles down a whimper when he feels his dad hold him a little tighter. 

"There's nothing for you to be sorry about, Son. Not for what's happening in town, and sure as hell not for waking me up. Would rather be in here making sure you're okay, than sleeping through you having trouble, kiddo. I just .. I wish there was something I could do for you, Stiles." 

The teen turns his head, catches sight of his closed laptop and remembers the confrontation with Derek. Technically, his Alpha gave him permission to do this. Not this -specifically-, but he -did- give him permission to take time off and he's going to grab a hold of the opportunity. Sure, his Alpha might kill him when he gets back, but so what? At least he will have had time to get his head back on straight.

"I, uh .." He closes his eyes, snaps his lids shut to try and protect himself from any rejection that might be coming. It's been several years since he's seen Kevin and Uncle Tom .. since after his Mom's funeral, in fact. He and Kevin had gotten in a fight when Stiles' mind couldn't reorder itself enough to understand that Kevin wasn't trying to be mean when he kept talking about his Mom. He had been rambling in the way only kids could, trying to take his cousin's mind off of the situation and instead, accidentally made it worse. By the time Uncle Tom intervened, Kevin was sobbing at the mean things Stiles had said. ".. do you think Uncle Tom and Kev would let me stay for the Summer? I know it's been a while, but me and Kev still e-mail and stuff and I just .. I really need to get out of Beacon Hills for a bit, Dad." He doesn't come right out and say that he's scared, but his tone must convey it because the Sheriff has gone stiff with concern. He studies his son's face for a moment, and then sighs.

"I think that just might be the ticket, son. I'll call Tom in the morning, see if he and Kevin will be okay with it." The teen is too tired to protest when his Dad kisses his forehead. "Rest up, Stiles. It's gonna be okay, kiddo." He doesn't have the strength or the heart to tell his Dad that it probably isn't. That the chance of him living beyond his teen years has been dramatically cut in half by his association with werewolves. Instead, he curls up in bed once his Dad is gone, quietly crying himself to sleep. Praying that the nightmares will stay away for now.

* * *

Day Five of Summer Vacation goes something like this:

At 9 in the morning, Stiles is awoken by a series of incoming texts. 8 to be precise. All of them from his best friend, Scott. The boy who has always been like a brother to him since the moment they met when they were 4 years old.

_God, Stiles, the movie was just SOOO great! I mean, I can't even!_

_It sucks that you didn't want to come, though._

He stares at that text for over ten minutes, fuming at how him -not being invited- somehow morphed into him not -wanting- to go. What the hell!?

_And the twist! Dude, the fact that the good guy was actually the bad guy! How clever is that!?_

And .. there goes a major plot point. Stiles scowls at his mobile, considers shutting it down and not bothering to read the rest of them, but he knows that he can't do that. Partially because his personality type doesn't allow him to leave things unfinished, unknown, and partially because he is too good a friend to do that.

_Isaac is soo clever, Stiles! He had it figured out, like, almost immediately._

_I'm pretty sure he figured it out quicker than you would've!_

Okay, now, that's just hitting below the belt! Scott knows that Stiles is a little insecure about his place in everything. -Knows- that Stiles struggles with the thought that his intelligence is basically all he's ever needed for, rather than anyone beyond Scott actually -liking- him. So, the fact that he said something like that guts the teen.

_We're going to go see another movie tomorrow._

_Isaac said I should invite you, but since you didn't want to come last time, didn't think you'd want to now._

Oh, wow. Just .. wow. The scarf-wearer wanted to invite him but -Scott- said no!? What kind of alternate, scum-sucking reality did he wake up in this morning!? He huffs and reads the last text.

_Oh! He gave me great advice about Allison, too! He said I should work on improving myself a bit more before I try and patch things up with her._

And .. that does it. It's the exact same advice he gaze Scott as soon as he found out Allison had broken up with him. And then gave it to him -again- once he had calmed down a little more. But no. Apparently, it went in one ear and out the other until -ISAAC- said it. And -then- it was brilliant and should be listened to.

It's a miracle that his phone doesn't end up in dozens of pieces, smashed to smithereens against his bedroom wall. Instead, he carefully sets it down on his pillow, glaring at the inanimate object as a focus for the ire he's feeling toward his best friend. He is also fighting down the desire to send a text to Scott telling him off for ruining the movie, for not inviting him in the first place, and then rub salt in the wound by telling him he'll probably be leaving for the Summer.

Instead, he decides to just let it go as best he can.

"Stiles? You up yet, kid?" His Dad sounds tired, worn out. Not surprising since he's coming off a double shift because of the lack of deputies at the station right now. He feels guilty for his Dad sounding like this.

"Yeah, I'm up!" He calls down, even as he grabs his cellphone and levers himself out of his bed. He stumbles to his door and opens it just as his Dad is poised to knock.

"Good. Come get breakfast, we need to talk." There is never a situation in any reality in which those words, we need to talk, are a good thing. Maybe, just this once, his luck is looking up and it will be okay. He nods to his Dad and says he'll be down in a minute. He pulls on a pair of sleep pants and shoves his phone into his pocket before he ambles down the stairs and joins his Dad in the kitchen.

He settles at the table without a word. Not even bothering to bitch about the fact that his Dad is eating bacon and eggs, or that he's got biscuits smothered in butter and honey. He simply grabs a plate and fixes himself a portion, waiting patiently to get whatever this is over.

"Seriously? Not a word about what I'm eating? I'm really starting to get worried, Stiles."

The teen folds several pieces of bacon into his mouth to give himself time, plus, well, -bacon-. He chews and swallows carefully, but he cannot think of anything better to say than the naked, raw truth. So he goes with that.

"What's the point of saying anything? You know what your doctor said, you know the risks. It's pointless for me to try and monitor, cajole or outright bitch because you don't listen to a word I say. You get deputies to bring you trash, you stop on the way in and out of work to get whatever the hell you want, so why should I waste my breath? You'll make whatever decision you want, so have it." He doesn't sugar coat it, doesn't pull any verbal punches. He just gets it all out in the open before he glances back up at his Dad. "Now. What's up? You said we needed to talk." He eyes the older man for a moment longer, seeing the shock, anger and concern all warring for dominance before he manages to close himself off.

"Yeah, right. Uhm .." The Sheriff stumbles his words for a moment before he clears his throat. "Your Uncle Tom and cousin Kevin called me late last night. They'd both love for you to come visit." Huh. Not what he was expecting to hear. Honestly, he had assumed that they had written him off and either wouldn't bother responding or would've politely told his Dad no. The acceptance of this is .. more than he thinks he deserves at the moment. 

"Wow. That's great. I'm assuming you didn't call me down here just to tell me that. You want to lay down ground rules." It is, after all, the logical conclusion. 

"Exactly. Firstly, you'll call me when you get there, and then every few days. You'll listen to whatever rules your Uncle Tom decides, and you will stick to them, Stiles. I know you get away with a lot because I'm always working, and Tom keeps the same hours. Don't try and pull any of your fast stuff with him, okay? You'll be a guest in their house. Behave." He wants to roll his eyes at that. As if he's ever needed a lecture to be on good behavior when he's around other people. He knows the difference between the kind of things a teen can get away with at home and the kind of manners one displays elsewhere. Hell, he knew that long before he -was- a teenager. 

"I'll behave, Dad, don't worry." He feels his phone vibrate in his pocket, and he chews his bottom lip for a moment.

"Now, the other reason I said we need to talk. Do you want Scott to come with you? Tom said he'd have no problem with him staying, too." Oh god, there goes that sense of anxiety, creeping up, into him. Because Scott is one of the problems he -really- needs time away from at this point! Like, all the time in the -world-, actually, but Summer Vacation is all he will get.

"No. Please, Dad, just ... no. He .." Stiles still can't tell his Dad the whole truth. No matter how badly he wants to. So, he breathes deep and silent, and offers up a tired smile. "I love Scott. He'll always be like a brother to me, but I can't handle him right now, Dad. He's one of the things I need a break from." The Sheriff doesn't look the least bit surprised at this news, and why should he? He and Scott have spent a decidedly lesser amount of time together, and the few times his Dad -has- seen them together, it's when they have gotten in trouble. He assumes the older man wants them to spend some time apart, too. If only to stay out of trouble.

"Alright. I thought that might be the case. Here." His Dad reaches into his shirt pocket and pulls out a new cellphone, handing it over.

"I've already got the new number in my phone, and Tom and Kevin have, too. It's just for the Summer, so that you can use it without having to worry about Scott ... or anyone else ... texting you." That little pause puts him on edge. How much has his Dad figured out? Does he know who all texts him? Like, say ... a certain ex-murder suspect?? He clears his throat, looks the phone over with a bit of a grin when he sees the Starry Night case on it.

"Thanks, Dad. You're the best, you know that, right?" The words are earnest, because he means them wholeheartedly. Not because of the phone or even because of the trip, but because of -everything-.

"Thanks, Son. Good to hear you say it from time to time." The Sheriff reaches over and scratches his nails across Stiles' buzz cut, causing him to grin lightly. It's one of the reasons he keeps it this short. People who otherwise wouldn't give him the time of day have a habit of reaching out to touch because they like the feel of the bristles. "Now, your train will be leaving early tomorrow morning. Your Uncle said to call him when you get in, and he'll be by to pick you up. I'm gonna miss you, kiddo, but hopefully, this Summer away will help you."

"Thanks, Dad. I hope so."


End file.
